street boys

Today I watched from my idling car as the 11 or 12 year old boy, wearing dirty, worn clothes, danced in the street while inhaling his glue. Stoned from his little bottle, he was one of many street boys wandering through the jammed afternoon traffic. I have seen this sight before in this city in which I live, but I guess this time the disparity of life here struck me even more dramatically. His intoxicated dance was going on right in front of an affluent private school bus. With windows open, I could see the kids inside the bus with their neatly pressed uniforms watching, some with laughter and some with concern, as the boy danced before the stopped bus. He will never wear a clean school uniform and most likely he will be dead soon, the victim of repeated toxic inhalants or hit by a vehicle in the road. The bus started to move as traffic resumed and the street boys chased after the bus to the sounds of laughter and excitement. And the stoned boys went to where? I do not know. I prayed for that boy as I continued my drive home. May God have mercy on the boys who call the street their home.